AT THE doorway to Red’s room, Carter paused abruptly. “Ah,” he said.
Red was startled and suddenly terrified. “What is it?” Had he stepped wrong again, was Carter having second thoughts? Was he worried, annoyed, disappointed—?
But Carter laughed, obviously not meaning any offense. “This looks a lot more personal than the rest of the flat, Red. I was beginning to think you lived in a showroom.”
Dear God. Red wondered if he knew anything at all about the man he wanted so badly in his bed. He never seemed to gauge Carter’s mood just right. Or was that a symptom of his own ridiculous nervousness? He was tremendously relieved Carter’s comment wasn’t anything more distracting. There’d been plenty of other men in his bedroom in the past, but he hadn’t exactly spent time chatting about furnishings. Hadn’t wanted to, to be honest. Most of them had been pleasant enough men, but none of them had been close friends before or after moving on to a fuck: not like Carter. Red felt an unfamiliar lurch of nerves in his gut and glanced around the room with a critical new viewpoint.
It was a lavish room with a king-sized bed, but otherwise the furnishing was stylish and neutral. It had all been placed by the interior design company his mother had hired. However, Red had drawn the line at her choosing his curtains and bedding, and the result was a rich mix of bright-colored fabrics, all in tasteful shades of red and purple. The curtains matched the linens, a bold contrast to the pale coloring on the walls and the luxury carpet.
And then there were the other personal things that were all about Red. He was rather astonished to see it all afresh. He supposed he’d brought his life into his bedroom without even realizing it. His guitar stood in its case against the wall beside the dresser, a book of tabs lying on the floor beside it, open at the rock section. A small selection of multicolored picks were scattered on the top of the dresser. There was also a lidless box jammed full of discarded theatre programs and gig tickets—except Red admitted now to himself that he hadn’t wanted to discard them, that he’d wanted to keep mementos of particular occasions. There were books piled on his bedside table he was still in the process of reading, as well as an e-reader and a thick catalogue from a fashion event that his mother had recently choreographed. A shelf over the dresser showed winner’s cups and plaques, and the wall by the window was covered in horse-riding memorabilia: silks, flags, photos of horses with Red smiling at their heads, or occasionally sitting on their backs in jockey silks. In several of them, he was accompanied by Alexander and Ellen De Vere at a family event of some kind.
And on the wall above his bed, a large canvas that—despite the fact it had no recognizable figure or theme, and the riot of color might be expected to give less resilient people a headache on waking—was unmistakably Zeke Roswell’s work.
Carter came up behind him and slid his arms around Red’s waist. “I didn’t mean to distract you. I like it.”
“I just never made the connection,” Red said. He knew he sounded breathless, and the words were as alien as if they were spoken by someone else. “I never saw that much of me in here.”
Carter shrugged and kissed Red’s neck. “You can’t hide forever.”
“What do you mean?”
Carter drew back. “Hey. Sorry. It was a joke. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Shit. Sorry, too.” He was far too nervous! He turned and faced Carter fully, took Carter’s face between his hands, and kissed him. Thoroughly. This was more familiar ground for Red, and it brought him back to the present. They kissed more and murmured nonsense and laughed when Carter nearly fell over a stray shoe of Red’s beside the bed. Then they tumbled onto the covers. Red couldn’t help but notice how Carter’s body relaxed as he sank into the heavy down duvet. If there’d ever been justification for the bloody expense that went into that bedding, this was it. He knelt up, grasped the hem of his shirt, and pulled it up over his head. Then he reached to do the same for Carter. Carter lifted a hand to help, and Red knocked it away. “This is mine. I’ve been waiting to see this little secret of yours again.”
“It’s no secret,” Carter protested, but there was a sly glint in his eyes.
Red grinned back and peeled off Carter’s shirt. Carter sucked in a breath as the cooler air hit his skin. Red watched as the muscles of Carter’s torso tightened and goose bumps sprang up on his belly. His nipples hardened into small, chestnut-colored nubs. The nipple ring gleamed against the right one.
Red sighed, deeply and happily.
“I didn’t realize you had such a thing for piercings.” Carter sounded wary, but amused.
Red dipped his head and flicked his tongue against the ring. “Just on you. It looks….”
“What?”
Red struggled to express the fierce thread of excitement running through him. “It’s all about you. It’s about the cool and controlled exterior you project, with this small wickedness beneath. A minor rebellion against outward discretion—maybe a protest against preconceived ideas. Or a primal need to kick out and be wild. To be enjoyed privately—to be discovered. I like that a lot. A lot.”
Carter was silent for a long moment, and Red wondered if he’d been the one to offend. But then Carter reached up for another kissing session, and Red could feel the renewed enthusiasm in him. To say nothing of Carter’s thickening cock lying against Red’s thigh. Red could feel it, even through their jeans. He wriggled about, kicking off his shoes and socks, releasing the button and zip of his jeans, then shimmying out of them. There was a clunk as they hit the bedroom floor, reminding him of his mobile in the pocket and plenty of spare change, now probably spilling over the carpet. As if he cared. As Carter pulled off his shoes and socks and tugged down his jeans as well, Red followed the path down Carter’s belly and legs with his mouth. Carter’s skin was cool and hot at the same time. Red didn’t know or care how he managed that. The taste was too good to stop and consider the why, when his mouth was enjoying the what and where. He kicked off his briefs, baring himself completely.
But Carter caught Red’s wrist, just as his hand started to slide inside Carter’s boxers. “Wait. Look. Shit, I sound like some virgin on a first date. It’s just… should we know the boundaries?”
Red slowly drew out his hand and sat back on his heels. He could hear his breathing, harsh and shallow. He could see the rise and fall of Carter’s chest. A drop of sweat glistened just below Carter’s Adam’s apple.
“Forget it,” Carter said hurriedly. “We’re adults. We know each other. I can’t believe I said such a bloody stupid thing.”
“Not stupid,” Red said, though he found conversation was a bit of an effort. “Very sensible.”
Carter shook his head. “I want you. I started this, right?” He arched again as Red settled his hand high up on Carter’s thigh, and they both gasped. “I’m not teasing.”
“Shh,” Red said. He felt as if his heart were beating at the base of his tongue. “You’re not. It’s fine.” What else could he say to reassure Carter? Maybe to reassure them both? “I’ve got condoms. I’m tested and fine. We can do as much or as little as you like… as long as I get to taste you.”
Carter gave a sharp, low moan. His eyes were unnaturally bright.
“Don’t pull away from me now, Carter. It’ll hurt in all kinds of ways, not just having blue balls.” Carter—to his own shock, apparently, from the startled expression on his face—began to laugh. Red loved the sound of it, especially if he’d provoked it. Especially in his bed. “So what do you like? So many choices. Romantic. Hard and fast. Here in the bed, back on the sofa. The kitchen table, though sweaty skin sticks to the laminate, y’know. I can tell you from bitter experience that casual furniture’s not as much fun as porn movies would have you imagine.” He felt flushed and knew he was gabbling, his gaze fixed on Carter’s mouth as they both laughed. But it gave him a magnificent buzz. “Whatever you want. Tell me. A quickie? An all-night session? I want as much as you can give. And, selfishly, I need to know what will bend you to my will. Flowers and chocolate? My car? My father’s car? My firstborn? Though you may have to wait a long time for that one to materialize.”
Carter was shaking with laughter now. He reached up, grabbed Red by the neck, and pulled him down for a satisfyingly wet kiss with plenty of tongue.
As they parted for breath again, Red knew things were going to be all right. “That does it for you, does it? Joking? Arsing around?”
“You do it for me,” Carter said. “I never met a man like you. I never know what you’re going to do or say next.”
“Glad to know the trick. Seriously, Carter, it’s not….”
“What?”
“Not always a joke,” Red whispered. “Don’t be afraid to talk to me—to tell me what you want.”
This time, when he slid his hand inside Carter’s straining boxers, Carter lifted his hips so Red could pull them down fully. Red’s fingers trailed over Carter’s balls, warm and furred. They were both naked now, and Red pressed his groin down against Carter’s. Carter’s cock curved upward toward his stomach, rubbing gently and deliciously along the side of Red’s. Red’s heart was beating at what he reckoned was just the right elevation, and his mouth was dry with the need for the next kiss.
“And what about you?” Carter murmured.
“Me? I just want good things for you.” Red recognized the look in Carter’s eyes. It held a thread of cynicism, though there was no judgment. But Red had plenty of practice in good sex, and Carter knew it. Should Red be ashamed of that? Carter must know already that Red felt differently toward him. Or…. Red would have to show him.
“This time,” he said, his voice sounding deep and throaty, “we’re going to take it slow.”
Carter ran a hand down Red’s hip. “Fast is good too.”
Shit, yes. “Time for both, I hope,” Red said. He slid his hand between Carter’s thighs, fondling his balls. “Turn over. Let me taste you.”
Carter’s moan was guttural this time. Red pulled back a few inches, and Carter rolled over underneath him, facedown on the duvet. Red sighed, and bent his mouth to the nape of Carter’s neck. He kissed slowly and messily, then dragged his lips down over Carter’s prominent shoulder blades. His cock caught on Carter’s buttocks, leaving a thin trail of precome, and he gave rein to the mental image of sliding it deliberately, nudging himself between the cheeks, seeking friction and slow, hard, spiraling pleasure.
But first, he’d promised himself more foreplay. For both of them. Much more. He wriggled down the bed until he was kneeling over Carter’s arse, his legs straddling Carter’s thighs. Carter lay still and silent underneath him, but Red saw a couple drops of sweat in the curve of his back. You feel me. You want me. The muscles felt strong and clenched under his hands: he loved the dip in the side of the buttocks, and the darker seam where thigh met cheek. Red pushed Carter’s thighs apart and moved around so he knelt between his legs. Carter gave a soft, strangled moan and lifted up onto his knees so his arse presented more easily. There was thin, dark hair on Carter’s upper thighs, also a damp trail in his crease. Red gently pulled the cheeks apart and blew on the hole. He planned to run his tongue all the way from the base of Carter’s spine, along the crease and over the hole, then pay long and torturous attention to the sensitive taint, lapping slowly toward Carter’s dangling balls—
“Fuck,” he said, frozen in the middle of his erotic anticipation. This time, he was the one silent for a long moment. His vision battled with his understanding, his expectation with reality. His desire was overwhelming the whole bloody lot of them.
“Red?” Carter wriggled a bit. “You hold on too tightly, I’ll get cramp.”
“You said you didn’t have any more decoration,” Red said. His voice didn’t sound like his own.
Carter made a small sound through his teeth. “No tattoos, I said.”
“But more piercing.”
Carter didn’t reply. Red wasn’t sure it had been a question at all. He could see the glint of a silver ring at the base of Carter’s balls, with a bead in the center. Carter was still, but now and then a muscle twitched at the top of his inner thigh. His balls seemed to shift and roll in the sac when that happened, and the ring shivered in the same rhythm.
“Oh fuck, that’s hot,” Red breathed. “How does it feel?”
Carter gave another gargling sound. “To have, or to have done? Whatever. It feels good.” Red reached a hand under Carter’s balls and gently flicked the ring with his thumb. Carter arched, gasping. “Oh! Shit. That’s more than good.”
Red was entranced. All that crap he’d said about Carter hiding his tiny rebellion in a nipple ring… this was a hundred times sexier, a thousand times more stimulating as a discovery. The devious, deceptive bastard! Red’s cock was even harder at the thought of rubbing in between Carter’s buttocks and legs, dampening his upper thighs, feeling the pressure of those muscles squeezing against him, bumping against the ring as he moved back and forth….
Red let out a loud, incoherent groan.
“Do it,” Carter growled. There was no way he could have read Red’s thoughts, though the tension in Red’s legs and hands probably gave a game or two away. But he pushed back against Red’s groin, encouraging the touch, seeking the same friction Red had been dreaming about. There was no need to scrabble in the bedside table for condoms, no need to discuss position and preference. Not at the moment, anyway. Red was already in place, his cock between Carter’s buttocks, precome providing the lube, his body fitting snugly and deliciously close to Carter’s. He gripped Carter’s hips and ran his cock along the crease of Carter’s arse.
“Oh God. Yes.” Carter dropped his weight onto one elbow, releasing his other hand. Red could see the movement both from above Carter’s body and also down between his legs. Carter was stroking his dick, strongly and with determination.
Red started to press deeper, to squeeze himself between the flesh. Carter shuddered under him each time he passed over his entrance. Red held one hand on Carter’s arse, keeping himself in place, and reached the other down under Carter’s body, to the base of Carter’s balls. It was a slightly awkward position, but more than compensated by the thrill of fingering the ring, and hearing Carter’s soft whimpers when he did. And there was no way either of them would last long. Red knew that much even as his head swam with the exaggerated sensations.
They found each other’s rhythm right up until near the end. Then, as his orgasm started building in the pit of his groin, Red pulled his hand away from the piercing so he could balance himself better, and thrust faster and harder against Carter’s muscled flesh. When the suspense reached its limits, he slid his cock out from between Carter’s cheeks, gave it a couple of encouraging twists at its base, then surrendered to his climax. He came all over Carter’s arse, the come spitting hot and sticky over his hand and spattering for inches beyond that. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d come so much, so uncontrollably.
Underneath him, Carter gave a low cry of pleasure and his back arched as he came too. Red had just enough presence of mind to grab Carter around the waist and help take his weight as he shook and gasped. Red reached a sticky hand to Carter’s groin and received a palm full of Carter’s seed to add to the mix. He let Carter down gently onto the bed, but stayed kneeling. Carter lay sprawled on his back, and lifted half-sleepy, half-shocked eyes to Red.
“Want a taste?” Red murmured. He was still breathless. He lifted his hand to his mouth and started licking off the cooling stickiness. There was a slightly tart taste that lingered on his tongue.
“God. Shit. You are….” Carter was struggling for breath too. His eyes looked too bright as his gaze roamed over Red’s body. “You’re fabulous.”
Red flushed, suffused with pleasure at the compliment. It was a bold thing for Carter to say—and therefore all the more precious. Perhaps he was learning about this man. Learning that extravagant words weren’t always needed to express true emotion; that a chance to appreciate Carter’s company was already a treasure, whatever came of it.
Finished with his self-indulgent licking, he let himself gingerly down on the duvet beside Carter. “So what the hell happened to the slow pace?”
“Soon,” Carter murmured. He looked very sleepy, and trying to fight it. “Plenty of time. Definitely on my to-do list.”
Red smiled and watched as Carter gave up and drifted to sleep.
On mine too.
CARTER stirred in the very early morning, just before dawn. There were no nightmares, no shocked awakenings. Just a sleepy return of awareness. In fact, as he’d confessed to Zeke, there hadn’t been any nightmares since Zeke first caught him crying out for Jacky in the middle of the night and had given Carter his pep talk about moving on. Carter got up and padded to the toilet. But when he came back into the bedroom, he didn’t immediately get back into bed. And that wasn’t because he was in an unfamiliar flat, or that over half the bedding had been appropriated by the other man on the mattress. It wasn’t even because he was walking rather stiffly from when Red and he had woken after a couple of hours sleep, fingered and sucked each other off very enthusiastically and satisfactorily, then fallen straight back asleep.
Sex relieves stress. It aids a more relaxed sleep pattern.
Carter couldn’t remember who’d told him that, though he was pretty sure there was no medical phenomena involved here. But he was smart enough to know the dreams had stopped at the same time Red was insinuating himself into his life even further—and Carter had welcomed it. His attention and his emotions had been drawn at last to another man. The moving on was perhaps both a symptom and a cause of his changing sleep patterns.
And it had been one hell of a good night.
Carter rubbed a hand thoughtfully on his buttocks. Soreness between them made its presence known, but not painfully so. He couldn’t hold back a slow, wide smile, and his dick stirred between his legs in happy memory. Or maybe he was ready for more. After all, Red had promised a long and leisurely rimming session. Red was fascinated by Carter’s guiche piercing. Red wanted to suck Carter dry. He’d said so, several times, repeatedly so….
Carter looked down on Red De Vere asleep in his bed. The occasional snore rippled Red’s lower lip. Of course, it could be that Red was the one responsible for changing Carter’s sleep patterns. He smiled to himself. Red was good for a lot of things.
Haven’t I already noticed that?
Carter knew at once, in one of those very clear, very chilling moments of shock. He didn’t give Red enough credit. He was too often guilty of judging Red in the same callous way others did. He knew there was so much more to the man, but he’d been ignoring it. Okay, so Red didn’t make it easy for people to know anything beyond the surface bonhomie, but he—Carter—should know better. He was used to people being complex to understand, difficult to love.
Didn’t he include himself in that description?
“Carter?” Red’s voice was muffled against a pillow. He mumbled something else that sounded like, “Back to bed.”
Carter was looking for a haven. He knew it. It’d been so long since he felt he could let his guard down, he’d stopped believing he could. He also knew it wasn’t fair to place the burden for providing that on another person. He’d been used in that way, and it had taken a heavy toll. No, it had to come from within himself. But was it too much to ask to have another person share the bad as well as the good, along the way? Maybe then there’d be a better balance of good and bad.
Way to go, Carter. He obviously had a more philosophical mind at night.
Whatever happened, he had tonight as a memory, a passing thrill, or something to build on. It was good enough for him. Just a great night.
“Now,” Red murmured from the bed, his face still buried in the bedding. “Want you.”
Carter gazed down at him, and a strange, painful warmth washed over him. He lifted the edge of the duvet and slid back into bed next to Red.
He had to stop lying to himself. One night was never going to be enough.